


Joining in the Snow

by confusedauthor



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Bottom Hanzo Shimada, Drama, Hanzo x McCree - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, McHanzo - Freeform, Mccree x Hanzo - Freeform, Minor Character Death, NSFW, Overwatch - Freeform, Romance, Sex, Snow, Top Jesse McCree, Tragedy, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:57:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedauthor/pseuds/confusedauthor
Summary: Suddenly, the door flung open violently, Hanzo immediately whipping around to attack. But instead in the doorway stood a panting McCree, his bag dropping to the floor. Hanzo sighed in relief as he placed a hand over his heart to calm it."What? Did you forget something?" he asked, gazing at him.McCree crossed the room with powerful strides before he grabbed hold of a very confused Hanzo’s cheeks."This."





	Joining in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO! This written in 3rd person and it is to be viewed in Hanzo’s perspective. In this fanfic, I’m really trying to portray Hanzo struggling to come to terms with his life and the cards he had been dealt. We will also be working on Hanzo learning to trust another person again. The smut written below might be a bit rough so if that is not your preference/makes you uncomfortable, you should not read this story. This smut is long and very thorough so if you prefer smuts to get down to the nitty-gritty quickly, you should not read this story. If you don’t like McHanzo...well...I don’t know how you ended up here. This smut is going to be a bit...graphic in the beginning, so blood+violence warning. Some moments may be inspired by adorable comics I’ve seen (and reblogged) on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy and make sure that you play Overwatch. It’s a beautiful game with a masterful backstory! ENJOY! (This was originally posted on fanfiction.net but now I have moved here)

He had that same dream again.

The same dream he had been having for 10 years now.

Heavy rain fell on Hanamura, the sky darkened as thunder and lightning raged in the skies. Quiet feet crept across the wooden floors of Shimada castle. The being was silent, taking low shallow breaths as they remained hidden amongst the shadows. A servant came round the corner with a lantern in hand, humming a cheerful tune. Just as the light consumed the shadow, the being vanished. Up to the balcony it fled. A handmaiden sat on a soft cushion, rearranging the flowers in a vase. The being crept up behind her, staring down at her form. She caught a glimpse of it’s reflection in the polish on the vase, yet she remained silent of the being’s presence.

Down below in the center of the room rested the being’s target, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips. He seemed to be swirling a bottle of sake in his hand as he stared down the mantle in the center of the room, his head bobbing from side to side as he listened to techno music.

The being leaped from the balcony onto the ground below, not making a single sound. It crept closer and closer to the target who remained unaware. It knew that the next wooden plank was loose. It’s eyes lowered down to the floorboard, shifting its entire weight upon it.

It’s target tilted his head in confusion, pulling an earbud from his ear. When he turned to face the source of the sound, he nearly jumped out of his skin before releasing a laugh. Smoke blew from his nose as he took another long drag on his cigarette.

“It is not very kind to sneak up on people like that, you know,” he teased, holding the bottle of sake out to the being. “Want a sip? It’s still warm.” Yet the being remained still. The target tilted his head in confusion.

“Is everything alright?”

His eyes followed the being’s hand as he gripped onto the handle of the sword round his waist, the being’s feet planting themselves firmly on the wooden planks. Those brown eyes widened in fear with a sliver of confusion, a trembling hand lowering the sake to the floor.

“Really? Training, now? I believe we have both earned a break,” he joked although his voice was uneven and choppy. His hands pressed firmly into the floorboards as his body braced. The being drew its sword from the sheath, holding the blade firmly in front of them. It’s target’s eyes carefully followed the gleam that shot through the sword, those fearful eyes locking onto the being for the last time.

“At least give me a chance to get my sword...”

The being raised the sword high above it’s head, ready to strike down it’s target with a deadly force. Tears flowed from its target’s eyes, quickly realizing just how helpless their situation was. “Please...” he begged, hoping to call the being back to humanity. The being hesitated in their strike, their hands trembling as a single tear slipped from their eye. As their sword violently ripped through its target’s body, only one thing bellowed through the night.

“HANZO--”

A disturbing thud awoke Hanzo from his nightmare, bow immediately at the ready and a few tears lingering on his cheeks. His body drew ragged breaths as hair fell into his face.

This must have been it.

The end.

He had spent so many years hidden, moving to a new home every week. But now it appeared that he had lingered too long. And he was now coming to face his demise. He slithered out from his futon, remaining crouched as he crept towards the door. The thud continued although this time it appeared to be quieter, barely audible over the winter air.

Hanzo pulled his bow string tighter, the instrument straining against its frame. He pressed his back against the wall near the front door, listening carefully. Another faint thud rapped directly on the door. He held back his breath as he poked the arrowhead through the door hinge, ready to snipe. But then a crashing thud rang outside followed by a groan. He retracted his bow in confusion.

That sounded like...pain.

His back crept up the wall towards the window, shifting the shutter aside a small amount to look out. That’s when he saw it, nearly buried in the snow.

The Peacekeeper.

“Jesse…”

His bow clattered to the floor as he flung open the door, the winter air piercing through his clothing. There Jesse McCree lay, hat carelessly tossed off his head and his body as stiff as wood. “Jesse,” Hanzo called once more, his fingers moving the hair from his friend’s face as he knelt by his side.

His skin was frigid to the touch. A feeling of panic washed over Hanzo as he pressed an ear to his chest. The faint sound of a heart beating rang through.

He was alive, for now.

“Inside…” Hanzo muttered aloud, preparing to lift the man up. That’s when he felt something warm against the hand that rested on his torso. He lifted his hand to have a look.

It was blood. A lot of blood.

The panic within him intensified as he quickly dragged him inside, struggling from the dead weight of his body. Once he secured him on his futon, he carefully walked outside, staring down at the large pool of blood in the snow. His eyes searched around for any shadows that lingered too long before grabbing a broom fabricated from discarded twigs. He brushed away the bloodstained snow as best as he could. Hanzo’s eyes searched once more, slowly reaching down to pick up the Peacekeeper and his hat. Once he felt secure, he crept back inside, locking the door shut.

He quickly crossed the room to McCree’s side, his hands quickly working to undress him in hopes of seeing the extent of his injuries. He first stripped away the tattered serape, tossing it into a corner. Next, the chestplate had to be removed. And, of course, Hanzo had no idea how to take it off.

His hands frantically searched for any crevice; a switch, a button; anything that could get this armor off. After a few frantic seconds of searching, he grew tired of all this. He simply cut the straps that held it together, tossing it off as well.

“No…” he whispered beneath his breath. McCree’s body had been littered with deep wounds; most likely that of a sword. His shirt had practically been torn to shreds from the vicious attack that it was easy for Hanzo to peel it off.

It was hard to tell with his thick body hair but there must have been at least 2 swordsmen. The length of each cut varied in length as well as girth.

McCree’s face grimaced in pain, his hand reaching out to grab Hanzo’s knee, giving it a firm squeeze. Hanzo snapped back to the task at hand, gently moving his hand away to rest at his side before scrambling through the abandoned home in search of medical supplies.

In the bathroom, he managed to find an old rusted emergency kit. The linen closet held a few rags and towels that never seemed to have left the store packaging. He had carried a tin bowl with him that he could spare for the moment. “Hang on, Jesse,” he said to him as he returned to his side. He kneeled beside him, plucking an arrow from his quiver to pry open the kit. The arrow strained in agony before the kit popped open.

Inside, there was a needle and suture thread, a few rolls of gauze as well. But there was no antiseptic.

...He could use alcohol. Not the best, but it will have to do.

Hanzo reached into McCree’s pockets, pulling out his flask. He shook it lightly to test the amount. It was practically full, but would the alcohol inside be strong enough?

He opened the flask and took a whiff--which he instantly regretted. The powerful scent burned his nostrils all the way down to his throat. Hanzo coughed for a bit, snapping the cap of the flask back on.

“Whisky…” he muttered, although he shouldn’t have been surprised. “For once, your unsophisticated taste will pay off, Jesse,” he joked, though it was clearly poor timing. Hanzo was unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do first but he needed to act fast. McCree’s face was beginning to pale and sweat was dripping down his body. He must have been going into some sort of shock. Hanzo carefully washed off the caked on blood from his body with warm water, using a ladle to pour on more if needed. The sight of his futon being covered in blood and in water made him want to sigh, but he should focus on other things at the moment.

“This is going to hurt, Jesse,” he apologized to the injured man. Hanzo used the scraps that remained of his shirt to tie his arms to furniture that rested nearby as he took it upon himself to sit on his legs to stop him from moving. He placed the needle inside of a bowl and poured a stream of whisky over it to sterilize it. “Here we go,” he whispered, mostly to himself to calm his trembling hands as the first stream of the alcohol came in contact with his wounds. McCree howled and screamed in agony, his limbs writhing underneath Hanzo. His teeth clenched and unclenched as he whined, his back arching as his body shook. Hanzo tried his best to force McCree back down without injuring him further. This may take too long…

With the final shred of fabric from McCree’s top, Hanzo wrapped it around 3 of his own arrows securely. He propped open McCree’s mouth and placed the wrapped arrows inside for him to dig his teeth into. “Hopefully this will make things better for you,” he said to him with a frown. He shook away his worrying thoughts before continuing to do his work, pouring the alcohol across his wounds. The whisky fizzled in his deep wounds, killing any bacteria that may have festered inside. McCree’s pained screams seemed to have subsided for now as his face relaxed, the sun-kissed glow returning to his face. He was safe, for now.

Hanzo used another moist towel to dab away the alcohol, washing his hands in a spare bowl before gazing into his wounds to see if they were clean enough to be sealed. He tossed his head back to clear his messy hair from his face before he leaned closed to McCree, using the needle to suture up his wounds. His handiwork wasn’t the best--sewing was something Genji had excelled at when their mother taught them before she passed--but it would be good enough for now. Every wound was properly sealed, none of them being too tight that they could rip apart from movement. He nodded to himself in approval of his work as he breathed out in relief, taking the arrows from his mouth. His teeth marks were present but the arrows could still be put to good use thus they were returned to his quiver.

His hand came up to McCree’s cheek, his thumb caressing the stubble on his cheeks as he looked over his face. He seemed so peaceful now than when he appeared at his door. Realizing what he was doing, he snatched his hand away, separating himself from McCree and loosening the bounds on his arms. 

“I leave the rest to you, Jesse…” 

Hanzo rubbed a mixture of healing herbs on McCree’s chest, the aroma of mint and sage filling the air before he carefully wrapped his body in gauze to protect his stitches. He wiped away the few beads of sweat from his brow, moving the hairs from his face as well as he watched him sleep.

“I have to move him,” he informed himself aloud. He would have to burn this futon. No one could find it nor could he risk taking the time to wash it. Was McCree able to kill the swordsmen? Are they still lingering nearby? Those questions had been swirling in the back of his mind for quite some time. If he had managed to kill them, their bodies would have been visible so that is highly unlikely. If he had killed them, he would be able to easily wash the futon in one of the neighboring homes. He would most likely have to sneak into town to acquire a new one.

But...could he risk leaving McCree alone? Even for a few minutes? Anything could happen in the short time he’s gone. In order to ensure his health, he needed to rest on a clean futon. Hanzo clicked his teeth in annoyance. Things were getting difficult again.

“Forgive me,” he said to him, lifting his torso into his arms, McCree’s head pressed securely against his chest as he shifted the futon from underneath him. He felt warm against his skin which was a good sign. (This put Hanzo at ease for a few moments.) He used a bundle of towels as a makeshift pillow to elevate his head for the time being, scooping the bloodied and damp futon in his arms. “I’ll be back soon…”

t-t-t-t

A small fire crackled in the firepit in the center of the room, McCree resting in the new futon on one side of the flames while Hanzo watched him from the other. A beef sukiyaki boiled on the flames, filling the air with a homely smell. McCree’s flask rested in Hanzo’s hand, the Asian man taking the occasional sip (and hating every second of it). He could feel the blood pooling to his cheeks as the alcohol began to take its effect. He was a fool to even remotely allow himself to lessen his senses but...it was the only way that he could relax--even if it were just for a few moments.

The alcohol was bitter, burning his throat with each gulp. The horrid taste lingered in the back of his mouth, yet the flask continued to meet his lips. McCree stirred in his slumber, his body drawing in a deep breath. Was he uncomfortable? Hanzo secured the blanket that rested around his body as he crawled slowly to his side. A bowl of cold water rested at his bedside, a small rag on the rim. Dipping said rag into the water, he pressed it against McCree’s skin in hopes of cooling him down.

“W-Water…” the gunman whispered, his voice cracking.

An uncontrollable smile appeared on Hanzo’s lips. It was good to hear his voice again.

He scooped up some water in the ladle, lifting his head into his arms to allow him to drink. McCree gulped down the water like mad, taking the ladle from Hanzo’s hand. He used his thumb to clear away any excess water from his lips as the other tried to catch his breath. The other man coughed, his eyes barely able to stay open as those eyes searched over Hanzo’s face. But in the eyes of McCree, it was just a gentle blur. Caring hands brushed against his scruffy cheeks which lulled him back to sleep.

“Rest easy now…” he whispered to him as he continued to look at his face. The scruff on his cheeks were gentle against his fingers. McCree’s face eased into his palm, nuzzling against the warmth as he continued to slumber. The childish action drew a smile to Hanzo’s face as his hands continued to roam. 

Now he was no stranger to this man by the name of Jesse McCree. Throughout his years of wandering the earth, he had caught glimpses of him before. Words were hardly ever shared when they would actually interact with one another. The two old fools would just sit and watch the view, drinking their drinks. Hanzo chuckled at the memories they had previously formed as he continued to view the sleeping man. Come to think of it, this may have been the first time he ever truly looked at him. He was a handsome fellow, even he had to admit that. He had this “wild man” appeal to him which would easily captivate anyone. Thick curled locks, a choppy and unkempt beard, and those thin eyes that seemed to pierce right through anything they locked on. Whenever he gazed at something, it felt as if he was taking it apart piece by piece. Yet, despite his relaxed personality, his face carried noticeable stress. Wrinkles on his forehead, around the eyes, and his cheeks. He must have carried so much weight…

“What has happened to you, Jesse?” he asked, a part of him wishing that he would answer.

Before things went too far, Hanzo quickly separated himself to return to his meal on the fire. His body remained near to McCree’s side as he quietly ate, the flickering flame continuing to warm the room. Despite the howl of the winter storm raging outside and the creaking floorboards, the room had fallen into a quiet lull once again. As he ate, Hanzo’s mind began to wander.

This place he had called ‘home’ for nearly a week now had become dangerous. Originally, he had planned to stay a bit longer to wait out the storm before he would move on but with Jesse here...Things would not be so easy. He couldn't just leave him here, especially in this condition. Who knows what lowlife would come to pick him off? And those two swordsmen...What if they were to return? McCree may have excellent accuracy with his gun but it would be impossible for him to take on two alone. He did not fair well the last time. These depressing thoughts dulled the taste of his food, making his stomach wrench. He set the bowl aside with a grimace, his hands coming to rest on his knees as he tried to calm down. Just the thought of those swordsmen made him sick.

...Or so he thought.

In a matter of seconds, Hanzo had thrown open the window and was profusely vomiting onto the fresh fallen snow. In his mind, he blamed his nerves getting the best of him although it was in fact the large amount of alcohol he consumed (as well as the fact that he is such a lightweight.) From his release of nearly everything in his stomach, he surprisingly felt better. “Fool…” he mumbled as he reached for the ladle filled with water. He took a long sip and swished the water around his mouth to clear the horrible taste away before spitting it out the window. The remaining water was tossed out to wash off a bit of the vomit before he shut the window. If he even wanted to be having thoughts such as this, he should probably make smarter decisions.

t-t-t-t

Two uneventful weeks have passed since McCree appeared at his doorstep. Things have been going quite well for the pair thus far. Hanzo had adjusted to his new life as a caretaker, which even surprised him at this point. He had a mental schedule that constantly looped in the back of his mind as he carried on through his day. After the first few awkward attempts (and nearly dropping the larger man), Hanzo was comfortable with bathing and grooming him. Unfortunately, McCree had not fully regained consciousness but it was something that Hanzo had learned to be comfortable with. He was capable of making small utterances, announcing when he was uncomfortable or needed to urinate--simple things. But he only ever referred to Hanzo as ‘Doc’ which seemed a bit odd. He would assume that the cowboy would be able to recognize his voice by now--not that he was upset or anything of the sort.

Hanzo rested his weary head against the cold tiles of his shower as he ran his fingers through his locs, scrubbing away the mud and grime littered about. They have managed to survive these weeks in peace. After all these years of wandering, Hanzo finally felt as if he were in a place that was...comfortable. Although he may not be awake, McCree was still good company to have. It was just nice to have another...person around him after such a long time. He just wished so very much that he was awake….

There were so many things he wanted to say--so many things he wanted to ask. What Hanzo really wanted was a friend. Someone to lean and depend on. These two weeks of resting had made him realize just how tired he had become. His face seemed to have aged a decade, a new wrinkle forming every single day. His eyes had lost their whimsical light that were held in them in his younger days. The amount of bags he had under his eyes would take too long to count. He was aging so poorly. He felt so...dead. An empty shell of a self he had long forgotten.

“...I need to change his bandages,” he muttered to himself aloud as he turned off the boiling water. Hanzo remained in the bath for just a bit longer, watching the water drip from his body into the drain. Slowly making his way out, he dressed himself in a thick wool yukata (though he put it on in a sloppy fashion, leaving his chest open). He moved to tie his hair up in a top knot but instead just wrapped the sash around his wrist, letting his hair fall free. A pot of boiling water rested in the fire pit, the bottle of sake bobbing to and fro inside. McCree slept soundly, his chest rising and falling gently. He placed himself down at his bed, grabbing hold of his wrist to check his pulse. Still there, and it was getting stronger everyday.

His mechanical arm, now that...that was going to be an issue. Hanzo wasn’t necessarily sure how to test to see if the arm was still working. At first he was going to attempt to simply tap it with his finger but he quickly realized that it had no nerve endings thus...Never mind. He held the metal prosthesis in his hands, studying the intricate gears and wires as well as the overall design of the arm. It carried quite a bit of weight to it and felt chilled to the touch. The surface was smooth despite the obvious cuts and dings on the surface from years of combat. He found himself interlocking his fingers with his hand, holding the cold prosthesis close as he gazed around the room. The hold brought him a bit of comfort.

“I hope to speak to you soon, Jesse…” he whispered as he carefully rested his arm at his side. Remembering his task at hand, he pulled back the sheets to change the bandages wrapped around his wounds. His bleeding had mostly stopped which took much of the weight and stress off of Hanzo for the time being. The stitches have held together quite well. Things were looking good for his friend. He placed his hair sash around his nose and mouth to block the potential scent before he removed the pot from the flame and set it aside to allow the sake to settle. He tossed the dirtied bandages into the flames to burn.  
During their time together, Hanzo had snuck his way into the nearby shopping center quite a few times in order to make his stay a bit more comfortable and manageable. He had bargained for extra blankets, pillows, a sponge, antiseptics, even new clothing for McCree to wear once he healed. It took some time to acquire since he had to keep his schedule random to not be tracked by anyone but it was all worth it in the end. Thus his role as bedside nurse had become more efficient. 

Shift his body and place him on a plastic tarp. Remove his pants and undergarments. Close his eyes and scrub his body. Remove the tarp and dump the water. Rub him down with herb infused oils. Redress him.

Simple enough.

As he wrapped the last few bandages around McCree’s body, a loud creak rang throughout the home. And Hanzo immediately knew. As calm as they come, he finished his work, gently tucking McCree underneath the covers. He rested the Peacekeeper at his side before he doused the fire in the center, plunging the home into darkness. It did not take long for his eyes to adjust to the new environment. Hanzo clasped his bow tightly, a few arrows at the ready as he aimed the arrowhead directly at the front door. And there he remained, patiently waiting.

To him, it felt like hours had passed as he remained stationary in that position. His ears picked up on every sound that seemed out of place. They were here, even a fool would be able to figure that out. It appeared that they were waiting him out, hoping that he would either grow tired or attack first. But he wasn’t going to play their game. Not at all.

Thus, he continued waiting as still as he could be. He was not going to allow the one person--the ONE person--who never once judged him or used him to slip into enemy hands. Yes, their mutual understanding of one another may have stemmed from drunken slurs and merriment but Hanzo held onto those times dearly. He would defend him to his last breath.

The doorknob gently quaked against the old wooden door before it slowly began to turn. Hanzo carefully rose to his feet in order to attack his enemies. Cold winter air seeped into the room, every breath he took becoming visible in the air. With a snap, the door swings open to reveal...nothing. It was a ploy. McCree drew a struggled breath from cold air piercing his skin, his teeth chattering together briefly. Hanzo immediately snapped his head to look at him in concern. He was only able to move away slightly when a kunai came dangerously close to grazing his cheek. The weapon pierced the wall behind him, vibrating from the disruption of movement. His eyes gazed back towards the door to find two swordsmen clinging onto the doorframe.

Adorned in black and vibrant Namahage masks, the two swordsmen crept closer to the archer. Their movements reminded Hanzo of the Japanese opera he visited as a child with his family. They acted as if they were curious animals, remaining on all fours and tilting their heads to & fro. The thick hair on their masks blew in the wind from the storm as they observed Hanzo in silence. His bow was armed at the ready yet he didn’t appear interested in firing off the weapon. The smaller of the pair lowers their head a bit further to ponder over McCree, almost as if they were admiring their handiwork. Hanzo could practically feel the smile that lingered beneath that mask.

Disgusting.

A deep anger formed in the pit of his stomach at said gaze. As if by instinct, he fired a powerful shot at the smaller swordsman only for it to be swatted away with their blade. The arrow lodged into the wall, nearly splitting one of the support beams. The blade was small and thin, almost like a toy. Ah, they wielded a tanto. It had a sakura blossom pendant dangling at the end of the fabric. A woman, perhaps? Their outfit was too tightly bound to tell. The other turned their gaze over to the arrow, immediately drawing their wakizashi in response. Before the sword had completely left its sheath, the smaller had leaped high into the air to strike down directly into McCree’s heart.

“So fast!” Hanzo thought as he quickly swung his bow around to trap the tanto in the arrow slot. The two struggle for dominance before the other swordsman kicked Hanzo in his stomach to force him back. He stumbled before catching himself against the wall.

“You will not harm him,” he warned.

“Try and stop us, Shimada-sama,” one retorted back in a teasing manner, twirling their wazikashi in a flourish. 

“Killing you won't be fun if you don't fight back,” said the other with a giggle.

The smaller readied their blade once more, flipping into the air once more to strike at Hanzo. Another swing of the bow bashed the strike away. The other cracked their neck before rushing in to help. They swiped at Hanzo’s body, coming dangerously close to slicing open his mid section. He felt as if he were being pushed into a corner. The smaller swiped at his legs to cut his tendons, causing him to jump back in surprise. His feet came to rest directly on the edge of the futon, nearly making him lose balance. This fight was getting too close to McCree!

His balance waning, Hanzo clumsily defended off the pair as he tried not to fall on his injured friend with his bow. It was at times like this that he wished he had been given the sword instead of the bow by his father. His arm guard was barely able to keep up with the quick strikes of tanto and the broad slashes from the wazikashi. He could feel his body teetering.

“Sorry, McCree…” he whispered down to him as he allowed himself to fallback on his legs. In a quick moment, he gathered up one of the cotton blankets covering McCree and whipped it around. The swordsmen in confusion struck at the blanket, their blades ripping through the fabric. Hanzo shifted his body, using the momentum to rip their blades from their hands and get back to his feet. He tossed the blanket behind him, the blades pinning the sheet up to the wall. The wooden frame of home allowed splinters and chips of wood to lodge the blanket into the place,rendering their swords unusable. The swordsmen stared in amusement.

“...I like him,” purred the smaller of the two. The other merely scoffed in response.

Hanzo had honestly never expected that trick to work in a real fight. In his younger days, he had used it on poor foolish Genji countless times (which typically resulted in him bursting into tears before dashing off to report to Father the “mean” thing he had done.)

Could these two be just reckless and dangerous, not actually skilled?

Hanzo tilted his head in speculation before the pair rushed at him. Punches, knees, and vicious kicks were tossed his way. He was barely able to keep up. Seeing a sliver of an opening, he leapt into the air, his legs wrapping around the throat of the large one as he flipped back, using the momentum of his body to slam them to the ground. They landed with a powerful thud, knocking over the pot that held his sake. The bottle shattered against the ground, shards of glass skidding about. The larger one grabbed a shard and returned to the fight. In the meantime, he was a bit occupied with the smaller who swung at him wildly with their kunai. He grabbed their wrist and delivered a quick jab to their midsection followed by an elbow to the chest to block their breathing. He quickly smacked the kunai from their hand before a vicious roundhouse kick knocked them to the other side of the room. The larger attempted to stab Hanzo with the glass, only managed to tear at the sleeve of his winter yukata. He locked their arm underneath his armpit, holding it in place as he squeezed down hard. They lost nearly all sensation in their hand, forcing them to let go of the shard. Grabbing onto the fabric of their shirt, Hanzo tossed them across the room where the other attempted to get back up.

“Is that the best you can do?” he mocked as he stood triumphant though fatigue was clearly visible on his face as every breath became harder to draw. The pair looked on in frustration, slowly rising to their feet after some of the pain wore off. He raised a hand slowly before beckoning them to come forth, a cocky smile on his face.

The two exchanged a gaze as they held onto their bruised limbs, glaring at the man before them. But Hanzo was not afraid. These two were reckless, foolish, and without honor. Dangerous, yes, but they could be easily overpowered with tactics. He just had to win. There was no other option. His friend was counting on it.

“Stand down, and I will make your death swift,” Hanzo offered, his body bracing as he prepared for another attack. The larger seemed to growl in frustration as they lunged forward recklessly to strike, the smaller on barely able to reach out and stop them. It was becoming easier for him to dodge their attacks for how consistent they appeared to be. Their defense left much to be desired.

Able to find an easy opening, Hanzo snatched their arm under his and dislocated their shoulder with a gruesome pop. The larger howled in agony as they collapsed to their knees, gripping the shoulder and attempting to lodge it back into place. A hard kick to the back sent their body tumbling to the floor as they whined in pain. He strolled over to their side as the other watched in trembling fear, squatting down to look at them. How powerless they looked, clearly beaten. His eyes traveled off towards the scattered glass of his sake bottle, picking up a shard. He tightly gripped on the hair of the Namahage mask, yanking their head back to expose their neck.

“You should have taken my offer…” he whispered, the shard ripping through their throat. The larger gurgled on the blood beginning to pool in their mouth and lungs, their fingers weakly clinging to their throat almost as if they were attempting to pin the skin back together. Their head fell to the floor as their body went still, a pool of blood spilling out onto the floor. Hanzo lets the shard slip through his fingers, the warm blood staining his fingers. The smaller looked on in pure shock, a hand reaching up to take off their mask. It revealed the face of a lovely young woman with tears staining her cheeks.

“...I’m sorry,” he said to her. It was a face of anguish he had seen many times from the many assassins he had faced. Another life he had stolen; another family he had ripped apart.

She reached her hands down into her boot to pull out a small dagger, gripping the handle in her hands. Her eyes were locked on Hanzo’s as all the anger that resonated in her body was focused on him. Hanzo did nothing except watch. She screams loudly as she runs forward to attempt to cut him, swinging every chance she got.

“I will kill you, I will kill you, I will--!”

A single gunshot rings through the air, piercing her skull. Her eyes slowly look up as if she were trying to look at the wound before her body crumples to the floor in a heap.

The ringing pain in his ear was all too familiar. Hanzo knew, he immediately knew. His heart began to pound in his chest. This moment couldn’t be real. His body slowly turned to find what he had been hoping for.

McCree was propped up on his knee, gun at the ready as he held his side. “B-Bang…” he whispered, his gun clattering to the floor. His attention turned to Hanzo in confusion, his mind still attempting to catch up. “Howdy, darlin’...” he greeted. He groaned in pain from moving too quickly, struggling to lay back down in the futon. “I reckon I pulled some stitches…” he said with a chuckle. “Shit, it hurts…” Hanzo immediately rushed over to help him. “You fool…” he whispered, tears spewing from his eyes as he quickly sobbed with joy.

“Hey now, honey-bee...I’ve always got your back…” he teased, trying to wipe his eyes.

“Shut up, you fool…” Hanzo said to him, a large smile on his face as he held the cowboy’s hand tightly in his.

t-t-t-t

The two stood in silence, McCree leaning on Hanzo for support with his arm swung around his shoulder. Before them were two graves for the fallen assassins, each of their masks leaning on a mound of snow as a gravemark. Hanzo’s eyes were squeezed shut in shame as he turned his head away. McCree gazed down at him before pulling him close, giving his arm a comforting squeeze as he rested his chin atop the smaller male’s head in some form of a hug. At first, his shoulders stiffened from the unfamiliar hold but eventually he eased into it.

“They made their bed...Don't you go tryin' to lay in it with ‘em…” he told him, separating from him and giving his hair a tussle.

Hanzo flashed him a smile in gratitude. It was good to have a voice of some reason at his side.

“Come, let me get you inside…”

t-t-t-t

Considering that the man had practically been in a coma for 3 weeks and only able to drink soup, Hanzo could understand his ravenous appetite.

But it was still terrifying to watch.

McCree scarfed down bowl after bowl of rice, beef, fish--nearly everything in the house. Speckles of rice and grease littered his cheeks and beard. A corner of Hanzo’s nose crinkled as he watched in horror, his hands pausing from their task of repairing his serape. He was grateful that someone appreciated his cooking but even this was too much. As he continued to shovel food down his throat, it seems that he shoveled too much. He started to choke.

He violently coughed and punched at his chest before taking a few deep breaths. Hanzo raised his brow in confusion. “Are you alright?” He cleared his throat before turning to his friend with a crooked smile. “Never better. This food is amazin’, Han,” he complimented as he reached to refill his bowl once again. He could feel his body stiffen as he turned his head away, a heat rising to his cheeks.

Was he blushing? Was he actually blushing?

He drew a few deep breaths to calm himself down before returning back to the serape to distract himself from the odd feeling he had experienced, weaving the needle in and out of the fabric. His serape was nearly shreds now but a part of Hanzo would hate to see it wither off and be tossed away. Despite the clear abuse and faded pattern, the fabric held a lot of memories. Their drunken nights of merriment and singing--mostly McCree singing--where the cowboy in question would whirl it around like a flag as Hanzo attempted to safely guide him to a motel to rest or other instances where McCree would use it to shield a vomiting Hanzo who he had unfortunately convinced to drink more than he could. After this time of struggle and hardship, will those times continue?

A worried expression crossed over Hanzo’s face, the serape coming to rest in his lap once again. He turned his attention to McCree, his bottom lip trembling as he tried to find the words to say. But McCree’s eyes seemed to be elsewhere. He wore a gentle smile on his face as he watched the snow fall past the window pane. It made him look younger and more at ease. His hand gently patted the spot on the futon next to him, wanting Hanzo to come closer. Those narrow eyes slowly rolled to their peripheral view, waiting for him to do so. His breath hitched as he felt those eyes slowly taking him apart, his heart pounding against his chest. He immediately lifted the serape to his chest in hopes of muffling the sound. Hanzo slowly rose to his feet and crossed to his side, the air suddenly becoming warmer. He felt himself unable to gaze up at him as he sat close to his side, looking down at the fabric in his hands. The futon shifted as McCree moved closer, his bare shoulder nearly grazing Hanzo. And they sat in silence for a time, listening to the wind gently brush against the window pane as the snowflakes decorated the glass.

“Look, uh…” he began to say after a time, picking the rice from his cheeks. “I know that yer thinkin’ a lot of things in that head of your’s…” He turns to look at him, Hanzo’s eyes immediately shying away. “I can tell. You’ve had this look on yer face since I woke up,” he said with a nervous chuckle. McCree’s face twisted in pain as he held his side, rotating his arm to loosen his stiff body. It was easy to tell that he was not good with personal conversations such as this--something Hanzo understood all too well. 

“I've been uh...I've been worried about ya, ya know? Hadn't seen ya in a while--and every man gets a little nervous when his drinking partner goes missin'. Plus knowin’ that someone like you would be spendin’ the holidays by themself, well that...that just didn't sit right with me,” he rambled. “A good person like yerself shouldn't spend the holidays alone…” McCree turned his attention to Hanzo, those eyes peering right into his. “And that's why I came to find ya. Tracked ya down as best I could. Even went to ask your brother, Genji about ya…” His fingers found their way into his hair, massaging the curls. 

“You know, uh...I’m not very good with this sort of thing…” He took a deep breath. “Listen, Han...You and me, we’re cut from the same cloth. We’re the same man. We’ve seen things that others couldn’t imagine...Done things, too. Things that we’re not proud of...things we’re ashamed of.” His eyes fell down to his metallic arm, moving his fingers. “But, everything that we’ve been through, we’ve survived. Despite the odds, we survived…Because we were meant to.” Tears welled up in Hanzo’s eyes as his voice continued to comfort him. He bit down on his bottom lip, fighting back the tears as he listened. He felt a hesitation in his words. McCree wasn’t sure as to whether or not he was hurting him. But he needed to hear this.

“You’ve got a good heart. Mine has become a bit darker over the years, I’ll admit, but you...You’re doin’ just fine.” McCree groaned in pain as he gripped his side tightly, the other quickly checking his stitches to see if any of them had pulled. “You should lie back down. You are not completely healed yet,” Hanzo told him as he tried to put him back on the pillows. “No, no, no I’m alright, I’m alright,” he assured him, his breathing ragged as he allowed the pain to subside. He gripped onto his arm as he braced his body. “Christ, that stings…”

“...I should have done more. I should have been more vigilant. I should have been more careful. I told myself to keep moving but this accursed storm trapped me here and because of that, you--”

“Alright, stop,” McCree interjected, holding his cheeks in his hand as he made him look in his eyes. “Now look, everything that happened to me ain’t yer fault. I came to see ya. I was huntin’ for ya. You can’t hold this against yerself, darlin’ We live dangerous lives, you and me. Things like this ain’t just gonna go away even if we want it too. You can’t beat yerself up over every little thing that’s not in yer control...” he shook his head in disbelief. “God, I do the same thing...I shouldn’t really be preachin’ it...Well, as yer friend, I’m able to be a hypocrite in order to give you good advice.” They held each other’s gaze. 

“Han, you’ve got to remember that yer human. Ya can’t stop everything and ya can't predict everything neither. You’ve done more than enough for me. You saved my life...I owe you my life. And nothing can change that...You did good,” he sincerely complimented, a crooked smile crossing his lips as he chuckled. 

Hanzo could only chuckle along as he closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe this was the push he needed to finally break out of this dark cloud that had loomed over him for so long. For once he felt...light. It was a nice feeling.  
He opened his eyes to find McCree’s eyes still locked on his, searching for something. And he couldn’t look away. This gaze felt different from the other times they’ve caught one another’s eyes. He felt a powerful pull coming from the cowboy’s eyes, almost like a violent yank to come closer. He reveled in this sensation for a time. What was this feeling?

McCree snatched his hands away, an awkward smile on his face. “Sorry...for uh, for touching you like that. I know you’re not the type to--”

“N-No, it is fine,” Hanzo told him, his curious gaze looking over the man beside him. “Is the pain still there?” he asked, forcing them back to reality. “Huh? Oh yeah, no, it’s gone for now. Feelin’ better every minute. Could go for a drink right now, to be honest.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Hanzo flicked his side hard. McCree nearly buckled in pain.

“Rest. Now,” Hanzo commanded, rising to his feet to prep fresh bandages.

“S-Sure thing…”

t-t-t-t

The days shared between the two men seemed to blend together. The snow had finally begun to melt, the end of the storm upon them as nicer weather peeked through. Life had become more pleasant since their heart-to-heart chat. Plus, McCree’s strength was returning quicker than either expected. In no time, the cowboy was up and about the house, helping Hanzo with various tasks and chores. They had fallen into a grace of domesticity: eating meals together, sparing together, and taking evening strolls through nearby parks.

Yet, there was this strange feeling lingering in the air around them. It created this sense of uneasiness. Gazes staying longer than they should, hands brushing against one another; the world appeared adamant on pushing them together. Now they were already close before from being kindred spirits but this closeness...this “intimacy” was new and exhilarating. It was a shame that Hanzo would never be able to experience this feeling again.

...McCree...was leaving.

He stood in the center of the room, checking over his supplies one last time. Hanzo sat on the futon, clearly distraught. His fingers fumbled the fabric of his yukata as he watched him in silence. The various things he wished he had the courage to say lingered in his mind.

Wait till nightfall to blend in with the shadows.

We just removed your stitches, should we not give this another day?

...I will miss you.

“Where you headed after this?” came McCree’s voice, snapping Hanzo back to reality. 

"Oh...I am not sure. Wherever the wind takes me...What about yourself?" he asked. "Me? I'll probably head back to Dorado," he answered with a chuckle. "Got a tab to pay." Hanzo chuckled, though it was half-hearted. "I see..."

The room fell into silence once again except for the subtle sound of shuffling from McCree’s bag. He tugged his yukata over his chest more as he practically hugged himself, gazing into the crackling flames.

"When you uh...when you find a place...you should let me know," he said, hoisting his bag on his shoulder. McCree finally turned to look at him, his eyes saddened. "I'll come visit ya..." Hanzo's eyes seemed to brighten for just a moment as he stood, scoffing to brush off the excitement within. "So that I will be forced to listen to your drunken singing? I think I'll pass up on your offer," he teased as he walked over to him with a slight smile. McCree took of his hat, placing it over his heart. "Sir, I will have you know that I am highly offended. I have an amazin' singing voice," he responded, placing his hat back on. Hanzo bellowed a laugh as he shook his head. "Sure you do." McCree smiled at his laughter.

" Well, Mr. Hanzo Shimada, it was a pleasure. I owe ya one, darlin'."

"You owe me more than one."

With a tip of his hat, McCree stepped out into the world. He turned his head back one last time to look at the man in the doorway, Hanzo giving him a slight wave. Another nod from him and he disappeared off into the snow. A deep sigh slipped from Hanzo's lips as he closed the door behind him.

Just like that, he was alone once more.

The air in the room felt colder all of a sudden. His eyes looked around, picking up more on every dent and scratch in the wood. Everything just seemed...duller.

Maybe it would be best if he just turned in for now. He just felt so exhausted.

Suddenly, the door flung open violently, Hanzo immediately whipping around to attack. But instead in the doorway stood a panting McCree, his bag dropping to the floor. Hanzo sighed in relief as he placed a hand over his heart to calm it.

"What? Did you forget something?" he asked, gazing at him.

McCree crossed the room with powerful strides before he grabbed hold of a very confused Hanzo’s cheeks.

"This."

He pressed his lips firmly against his, kissing him with every fiber of his being. At first, his body told him to resist but God this was everything Hanzo wanted. He eased into the kiss, gripping into his serape as he tilted his head to the side. McCree deepened said kiss, a hand slipping down to his waist. His entire body tingled as goosebumps formed all over. His lips were so soft and this kiss was so passionate. Hanzo had to concentrate immensely or else his knees would surely buckle. The pair eventually separated, both out of breath and their cheeks flushed as they rested their foreheads against the other. They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes, clearly wanting more. They share an awkward laugh.

“Been meanin’ to do that since I first met ya, darlin’.”

“Well, you sure took your time doing it.” McCree laughed.

“Do you ever shut up?”

Hanzo felt bold. “Why don’t you make me?”

McCree was clearly taken aback for a moment before that crooked smile returned. “Understood.”

Their lips find their way back to one another as things became more heated between them. Hanzo’s hands found their way into his hair, pulling at his choppy locks as McCree fumbled to get him down on the futon. Instead, the pair came to kneel on it, kissing and holding each other like true lovers would. His fingers played with his locks as he fell further and further into his allure. He moved one hand away for just a moment to pluck his hat from his head, tossing it to the side in order to play in all of his hair. McCree held onto his waist firmly as he returned every single kiss.

McCree’s lips pulled away first, both men gasping for air as he moved to attack his neck, sucking and biting on every patch of skin. Hanzo released small whimpers of satisfaction as those lips electrified his skin. He was completely at his mercy. His legs squirmed, his body trembled, a pit of fire formed in his stomach. He slowly trailed his tongue up the smaller male’s neck before returning to the fight between their lips and tongues. The cowboy pulled on Hanzo's bottom lip with his teeth before he placed his forehead against his, trying to catch his breath. Both of them were clearly aroused beyond comprehension. McCree’s eyes locked on Hanzo's hardened nipples that poked through the fabric of his clothing. Hanzo's eyes locked on the visible tent at the center of his pants, the obvious erection twitching vigorously with life.

Who would make the first move?

A trembling hand reached out to give said tent a firm squeeze, a deep groan resonating from McCree’s chest as he tilted his head back. His hand moved up and down his length slowly, feeling the flesh grow against his palm. Lost in ecstasy, McCree slowly began to roll his hips to further the massage of his erection. His hand shot out, grabbing hold his wrist to stop him. “Han, wait…” For just a brief moment it seemed that McCree was trying to remember how to speak. “Are you sure you want to do this? With me?” he asked, a part of him afraid of the answer. Hanzo responded with a peck on his lips. It was awkward and their lips barely brushed against one another but the message was clear:

I want this.

No further explanation was required as the archer began to work his pants open, fumbling a bit over the gaudy belt buckle he wore. The heavy gold plate labeled BAMF hit the wooden floor with a thud as the sound of his zipper coming undone filled the room. His erection stood proudly in his boxers as it was given a bit more room to breathe. Suddenly, Hanzo felt so nervous. During their time together, he had seen McCree naked quite a few times when tending his wounds but this was an entirely new animal. With a deep breath, Hanzo slowly yanked down the front of his boxers, his erection springing free. Blood rushed to Hanzo's cheeks as he stared down at his member. It was much larger than he expected--larger than his own to be honest. McCree turned his head away, embarrassed by the sudden attention.

“D-Don’t just stare at it…” he mumbled.

He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, feeling the warm flesh pulse in his hand as he began to stroke it. McCree groaned as he rolled his hips once again, wanting him to go faster. Soon his hand was pumping his length, his own erection twitching and begging for the same attention. His placed his free hand in his lap as his legs squirmed, biting his bottom lip as he watched McCree unravel. His breathing was hard and choppy as the smaller male pleased him, his eyes squeezed shut. He placed his hand around the tip of his member, rotating his hand around it vigorously as pre started to drip, giving him ample lubrication. 

“H-Han…” he quietly moaned, one eye opening just so he could look at him. He placed his hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer to give him a hard kiss on the lips as he vigorously worked his length. Lewd sounds began to fill the room as Hanzo continued his work on McCree. Their lips stayed together, the world around them seeming to vanish. Unable to take the heat, the cowboy made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt as sweat began to form on his skin. He was getting close, surely Hanzo could feel it. His member twitched violently, his entire length doused in pre. He moved his lips away to rest his forehead on his neck, breathing heavily in the crook of it and occasionally giving the flesh a gentle nip.

For Hanzo, the scene before him was too much to bear. Feeling how aroused he was able to make him with just his hand was almost frightening. His own erection pulsed with the desire to be touched that it started to hurt, his undergarments stained with pre. He moved his arm to hug the back of his head close to his body, his warm breath sending shivers down his spine. His hand pumped as fast as it could go till his wrist started to hurt, wanting oh so desperately for him to feel a bit of relief. His hips thrusted roughly into his hand, barely able to contain himself. His nails scraped at the floorboards as he pumped his hips like a madman. It had been a long time since either of them had felt such a lustful presence.

“C-Cu--"

McCree’s teeth clamped down on his neck hard as he let out a strangled groan, his love spewing from the tip. Hanzo himself was breathing hard as he felt the warm liquid run down his fingers and drip onto his yukata. The pumping of his length slowed down as he gave him time to catch his breath. Eventually, he moved his teeth away from his neck, giving the spot he bit an apologetic kiss.

After a powerful release such as that, his member was still full of life. This was hardly enough to satisfy the cowboy, and from the look of things, it was not enough for the archer either. Shy eyes gazed up at one another after such an intimate moment, unable to find the appropriate words to address what just happened. But both of them wore smiles on their face, blushing immensely from arousal and their awkward nature when it came to one another. Hanzo looked down at the liquid coating his hand, unsure of what to do with it.

“H--" McCree cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back to it's normal tone. “Here…” he said to him, taking his hand in his metallic one as he cleaned it off with a handkerchief. He tossed said handkerchief into the flames, the fabric quickly burning. The warm sensation that erupted from his body still lingered on Hanzo’s hand, his body unable to take the need to feel the same release. But the cowboy had already taken note of that, his hands working on taking off his undergarments before the archer’s mind was even able to catch up. “W-What are you doing?” he asked as he felt a cool breeze wash over his erection as his undergarments lay cast away on the floor. He panicked, trying to use the ends of his yukata to cover himself. McCree spread Hanzo’s legs wide, lowering himself to the floor till he was eye-level with the archer’s member. “Relax, Han,” he told him with a small laugh.

“No, you do not have to--” His words were cut off as McCree’s lips engulfed his member with ease. Hanzo moaned in ecstasy as he felt his hot mouth swallow him whole, his legs clamping down on the sides of his head as his fingers entangled themselves in the cowboy’s hair. He bit down on his thumb as McCree’s head began to bob on his length. The sensation was indescribable. Hanzo’s lower half burned as he felt himself melt with lust and desire. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not thrust his member further down the other man’s throat. His breathing quickly became heavy as McCree seemed to suck faster on his length, his tongue swirling around the tip. Hanzo moved his hand away from his lips to place on his chest, his heart pounding hard against his ribs as it tried to escape. A finger snuck over to his nipple, rubbing the aroused flesh as his mind raced with every vulgar and inconceivable thought he could muster. He gave it a hard pinch, another powerful moan slipping past his lips. Despite being a bit busy, McCree watched him with pure joy, amused as to how much sensation he was giving him. He slipped his member from his lips with a loud pop as he licked the tip, his tongue trailing up the thick vein lining the underside of his member. 

“J--” Hanzo bit his lip to stop his name from spilling past them as he watched him through half-lidded eyes. His tongue and lips coiled around his length like a vice, every simple touch of his lips against it sending shivers down his spine. Their eyes locked as McCree’s tongue slowly swirled around the tip. “You’re wicked,” he groaned as his body quaked from the obnoxious cowboy. The other man laughed, the action vibrating against his member. He gave the tip a soft kiss. “And you’re pretty darn cute,” he teased back, taking his member down to the hilt.

“Don’t you dare call me--” he began to threaten before another moan slipped out. This feeling was becoming unbearable for Hanzo. He felt as if a deep fog had fallen over his mind as McCree showed him such a scandalous pleasure. Surely this act was disgusting to McCree. A man of his caliber would never want to do something like this to a man like Hanzo. He would much rather be experiencing this from a woman, right? The feeling of teeth grazing against his shaft snapped Hanzo from his thoughts, McCree’s eyes narrowed as if to tell him:

Pay close attention.

He moaned as he felt his length being pressed further down his throat, the warm orifice squeezing down on him. His fingers aimlessly played in his hair as he attempted to remember how to breathe. Had the man before him always been this seductive? He was aware of how much of a silver-tongue he possessed when it came to convincing bartenders to drop his tab or talk his way out of a drunken scrap but this--this was becoming too much. His chest began to heave as he leaned back on his elbows in an attempt to keep himself propped up, sweat dripping down his torso. He was getting close, very close, and it seemed as if McCree didn’t planning on stopping. Hanzo tugged on his hair to get his attention but that hardly seemed to phase the cowboy. His eyes locked on his as he continued, almost as if he were waiting for him to release. His head shook slightly as the muscles in his abdomen began to clench. “N--” he tried to say as he pressed a hand to McCree’s forehead, trying his best to remove him from his member. But McCree continued on in his act. In fact, his head seemed to be bobbing faster. “Sto--” Hanzo bit down on his lip as he realized it was too late. He pressed his member deep down his throat as his release sent shivers through his body. His movement slowed as he gave him time to relax, swallowing his love as best as he could. The archer fell back onto the pillows, his arm covering his reddened face as he tried to catch his breath. His muscles quaked and his fingers twitched as his mind tried to remember everything he had ever learned. 

A very satisfied McCree sat back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he finished swallowing the contents in his mouth. Seeing the other man in such a disheveled heap of pleasure made that crooked smile return right back to his face. He crawled over to him, hovering over his body as he moved his arm away from his face. Startled, Hanzo tried to squirm away, using the sleeve of his yukata to cover his face once more. “Don’t look…” The cowboy chuckled as he settled between the archer’s legs, kissing up and down his slender neck. He whimpered from the peppering of his lips, gripping onto his arm. “No need to be embarrassed, sweet pea. I want you to feel good too,” he told him as he interlocked their fingers. An exhausted Hanzo looked at him through half-lidded eyes, bringing a hand up to rest on his cheek. McCree turned his head to the side, giving his palm a kiss. His heart thumped against his chest as he gazed at his handsome face. He stuck out his tongue, McCree happily obliging to meet him all the way as their tongues tangled with one another. His metallic hand reached between them, grabbing hold of both their members as he stroked them. Feeling the chilled metal against his aroused flesh was odd, but Hanzo honestly could not care less.

He just wanted him. He always had.

His legs rested on the cowboy’s waist as they continued to kiss. He tilted his head up so that those lips would dance along his skin. His hand cupped one of Hanzo’s pecs, giving it a few squeezes before he sucked on his hardened nipple. Hanzo squirmed from the odd sensation, biting his lip to stop any sounds from spilling out. His other hand tweaked his nipple, electricity running down his body directly to his member. McCree bit, sucked, and tugged on his nipples till they were raw and reddened from over stimulation.

“I like this body of yer’s,” he commented, kissing further down his torso. He nipped at his pelvis, his lips moving along his toned legs as he ignored Hanzo’s member that practically begged for attention. The archer laid there, slowly becoming restless as the other teased his already sensitive body.

“You got beautiful legs, darlin’. Make a man crazy,” he told him as he kissed his calf. “Stop commenting on everything and do what you must,” he retorted back with a gentle kick to his arm before he turned his head away. McCree laughed heartily. “Thought you’d appreciate some foreplay, but alright…”

Hanzo closed his eyes, trying to regain his senses as the shivers of pleasure started to wear off. Suddenly, his body was roughly flipped over, his face pressed into the pillow. A scowl came to his face as he turned his head to yell.

“Y--”

Instead, a long moan fell past his lips as he felt two fingers plunge deep into his entrance. Hanzo buried his face back into the pillow to hide his flushed face as those fingers quickly pistoned inside, his hips rolling to further drive the sensation. He hugged the pillow close to his chest as he continuously moaned into it, his eyes rolling back. McCree spread out his fingers, stretching his inner walls before he returned to pleasuring him. Hanzo grabbed ahold of McCree’s wrist, showing him the rough pace that he wanted. He smirked, doing exactly what he demanded, much to the archer’s delight. His back arched deeply as all of his pleasure spots were repeatedly hit. Their bodies met halfway, Hanzo pressing his body back hard against his fingers as McCree pressed his fingers deep forward. Pre dripped down from his member, staining the sheets as his body trembled. His teeth clamped down on the pillow as he felt himself reaching closer and closer to the edge. But then the fingers were gone. Hanzo whined in frustration, panting from arousal as he lifted himself up, his body slouching back against McCree’s while also resting an arm on the back of his neck. He stuck out his tongue once again, quickly stroking McCree’s member. His member dripped with pre as he was close to bursting as well. It was obvious what they both wanted.

“I know, darlin’. I know, I know,” he cooed as he kissed him. McCree spread his legs wider before pushing his member halfway inside, giving him time to adjust. Hanzo gasped from the intrusion as his arm move up to play in his hair with his fingers. The other groaned deeply as he felt his walls clamp down on his member like a vice, trying his best to ignore the intense urge to pound into him. Hanzo, however, did not feel the same.

He quickly began thrusting his hips back, driving McCree further inside. The other gritted his teeth as he slipped his pants further down his waist, the room soon filling with the sound of their bodies slapping against one another. McCree’s nails and the tips of his metallic fingers dug into Hanzo’s hips as he thrusted roughly inside of him, his lips pressed together as he grunted. The archer’s toes curled as he felt himself being constantly filled. He got down on all fours on the futon, a deep arch in his back as he gave him a better angle to pound inside. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as he did his best to hold his voice in. But it was proving to be difficult.

McCree repeatedly pressed against his prostate, a loud whimper escaping from nearly every thrust. His nails on one hand dug into his palm while the other scratched at the floorboards.

“Jes--” he began to call, biting down harder on his bottom lip harder.

He leaned his body down, kissing along his neck as he continued to thrust inside. His arm reached back again, tugging on his hair as he felt his hot breath against his skin.

“Wa-- Hanzo moaned before his head snapped back with another whimper. His arse began to turn a bright red from the intense pounding, pain beginning to shoot up his lower back.

But dear God did he love it.

After a long period of relentless thrusting at the hands of McCree, Hanzo was practically gasping for air. His legs felt like gelatin and his body was drenched in sweat. He couldn’t find the words to describe the amazing sensation coursing throughout his body. Every kiss McCree pressed along his shoulders set the spot on fire, his body squeezing down on his member in gratitude. The center of his stomach felt as if it were starting to burn as he started tipping over the edge. This was becoming too intense. McCree needed to stop for just a moment. Hanzo reached back to grab hold of his pant’s leg, tugging on it lightly to get his attention but it was already starting. His body quaked as he began to lose control.

“Wait--” he attempted to say before a ripple of heat exploded from his core, his love shooting out of his body with a loud drawn-out whimper as McCree finally slowed his pace, rolling his hips to give him time to ride out his violent release. Hanzo practically collapsed into a heap, his body twitching in ecstasy as pleasure took over. His love pooled on the futon as he continued to whimper, saliva dripping down his chin as he panted. He felt like his body was being shocked, every muscle tingling. McCree carefully pulled out his member, caressing Hanzo’s hip in comfort as he waited for him to come down from his high. He softly moaned once he felt his member slip out, his entrance pulsing with want from the absence. 

He rolled over onto his side, gazing up at McCree as he tried to catch his breath. He too was drenched in sweat, his cheeks flushed red as he slicked back his damp hair. His eyes immediately pierced into Hanzo’s, hungry to experience more of him. His heartbeat against his chest from his powerful gaze. His eyes trailed down to see his member twitch with life. He lazily motioned for him to come closer, McCree crawling over to his side with a curious look on his face. His fingers gripped his shaft, a small grunt escaping him from the sudden grip before his tongue lapped at the tip with sheepish licks.

McCree groaned as his eyes absorbed the wonderful sight before him. He never expected Hanzo to be willing to do this on his own. (He had already begun planning ways of asking him to do it in his head.) He wanted to touch him so badly but didn’t want to scare him off. So his arms remained at his side, his head rolling back as the archer took more of him into his mouth.

A nagging thought lingered in the back of his mind. This is vulgar! What do you think you’re doing? He knew that, of course he knew, but the taste was too intoxicating to ignore. Hanzo sucked on his length as best as he could, attempting to recreate what the cowboy had done to him. His lips were only able to wrap around about half of his shaft, the tip alreading tickling the back of his throat.

“Yer killin’ me, Han,” McCree groaned, gritting his teeth as he gently rocked his hips. He locked his hands behind his back, trying his best to control himself and not spoil the moment. The look on Hanzo’s face was rather amusing, nearly making him laugh. His eyebrows were furrowed, deeply concentrating at the task at hand. He started to bob his head more, arousal taking over as he felt his mouth begin to fill with pre and his member swelled in size. His legs squirmed as he became irritated by the absence of McCree being inside of him. He wanted him deep inside once again. Badly. Hanzo pulled up the end of his yukata, revealing his reddened arse. The other reached over and grabbed hold of one cheek, admiring the bright red color against his pale skin. A deep groan came from him as he felt Hanzo’s delicate fingers touch his testicles, giving them tender squeezes as he gagged on his length. He slipped a finger inside of his entrance, plunging it as deep as it would go in an attempt to relieve the irritating pulse of desire he kept feeling. McCree couldn’t help but whistle at the sight, smirking.

“Where’d you learn a thing like that?” he teased as he continuously played with his arsecheek, watching the flesh jiggle in his metallic palm. Hanzo glared at him for a brief moment his eyes closing back as his finger finally grazed against the bundle of nerves in his body, a small whimper spilling out. But this wasn’t enough. He needed to hit it harder than that. He looked at the member between his lip, licking the tip slowly. He needed this. His member fell from his lips with a loud slurp as he finally had the strength to sit up, his arms outstretched like a small child wanting to be lifted. McCree couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, pulling his small body close to his. He kissed his neck and chest, knowing that those were his favorites places to be loved. He wanted to be more gentle with him--to not lose control like he had earlier but his body was so seductive. Hanzo was a beautiful man, his arousal constantly getting lost in his fit yet curvy body as well as his long black hair that he wanted to desperately entangle his hand in as he took him from behind. But that would surely push him away from him. He was already being fairly rough with him, but he wasn’t sure as to how far he could push. He wanted to make Hanzo happy too.

Hanzo weakly hugged him in return, breathing in his unique scent as he felt his lips on him again. After years of solitude and isolation, he had forgotten how amazing it feels to be intertwined with another person in pleasure. Though his previous experiences were fun--not as many as his brother, Genji, had unfortunately committed many adulterous things much Father’s dismay but enough to have experience--being with another man was exhilarating. It felt...right. He entangled himself in his hair, smiling. While McCree’s lip found their way back to his nipples to suck, he planted a gentle kiss on his forehead which made the cowboy’s look up in surprise. It was such a gentle act but just the thought of it made his heart pound. He slowly moved himself up to look directly into Hanzo’s eyes that immediately shied away. He placed his hands on his shoulders, gently laying McCree down against the pillows. His cheeks flushed a bright red as he nibbled on his bottom lip. His member pressed against the archer’s thigh, twitching from sheer excitement.

“I-I…” he mumbles, holding his member as he positioned it at his entrance. “I want you to feel good too…” he told him before slipping his length completely inside himself with a low moan, that electric shock returning as his tip immediately presses against his prostate. McCree covered his eyes with his hands (although he was blatantly peering through his fingers). He planted his feet on the futon and gripped McCree’s knees, lifting himself up and dropping back down over and over. He bit his lip as he whimpered repeatedly from the deep penetration, tossing his hair back as his eyes squeezed shut. McCree wasn’t sure what to do. Should he help him by thrusting or just watch this beautiful man work his length in complete awe? That same man began to pick up the pace, startling McCree from his thoughts as he held onto his waist just to keep them stable. Their skin slapped together, Hanzo’s body quivering as he moaned from being filled. He shielded his mouth with the back of his hand, embarrassed from the sounds he was making. His member slapped against his stomach.

...Yep, McCree was definitely going to watch this.

The inside of Hanzo’s body burned with desire, his walls being stretched as he felt McCree grow inside of him. He bit down on the sleeve of his yukata to stifle his erotic sounds. McCree’s nails dug into his hips, the cowboy obviously restless and wanting to participate. Despite their bodies already slapping against one another, the pace was still not enough. He wanted to be pounded into just like before. That feeling of breathless as he was mercilessly pleased was like an aphrodisiac.

“...H-Harder…” he whispered, moving his hand from his knee to his chest, running his fingers down his toned body. “In...Inside me...Harder,” the archer practically begged, using his sleeve to cover his reddened cheeks.

And just like that, McCree’s self control cracked. He placed his feet flat on the futon, putting his hands in the crook of his legs as he roughly thrusted up to the hilt over and over. Hanzo’s eyes rolled back as that aphrodisiacal feeling returned. He could feel his arse jiggling from the rough pounding, a small portion of his mind wanting to hide from that fact alone. But the rest of his mind was preoccupied with not screaming out in pure joy of this sensation. The other man gritted his teeth from his entrance clamping down on him.

“Shit, Han…” he muttered. 

His arse tingled with pain as McCree’s strong thighs hit against him. His own thighs ached from the aggressive motion. He tried his best to hold on, the constant pressing against his prostate sending ripples of pleasure through his body. But he was truly exhausted. 

His brow furrowed as he felt that familiar sensation in the pit of his stomach. God, how could this man make him react this way repeatedly? He was never this fast, not with any of his previous sexual partners. But with him, every touch and kiss made him crave release. Soon, he was matching his pace, dropping himself down hard. Each whimper grew louder as he felt his abdomen tighten.

Eventually, his legs gave out, his body practically falling onto him just as he thrusted. Hanzo cried out as his entire body had a spasm, his toes curling as his love splattered against his legs. His chest heaved as he tried to collect himself, his knees locking together. He wanted to keep going--he wanted to please McCree--but he could hardly move. His fell on top of him, his head resting on his chest as he gasped for air.

“Tired, darlin’?” he asked, moving the damp hair from Hanzo’s face with a soft smile. McCree tried to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his nose. His entire body felt heavy, his legs pulsing in pain and his back cramped from the various positions. Hanzo was exhausted, barely possessing the energy necessary to string together a coherent thought. But he loved the way his body felt, every part tingling by an overwhelming amount of sensation. His body was filled with McCree; his scent, his touch, his love. And he didn’t want to be the only one feeling it. He carefully crawled up to his face, pressing his lips against his as he hold onto his cheeks. His body trembled, almost as if he were fighting back tears. Their lips slowly parted, McCree gazing at him in slight confusion. His heart pounded against his chest as he gazed upon his handsome face, unable to look away. 

This feeling--the butterflies in his stomach, a racing heart, sweaty palms--this was love. He was in love with this man. Watching over him in silence for weeks was pure agony. Not being able to hear his voice, his laughter, his loud off-key singing voice burdened him. He had always been captivated by his confidence, how he could burst into a room and immediately be the center of attention. From their first encounter in Dorado till now, he was always on his mind. McCree was everything he never could be.

He wanted--no--he needed him to become whole again.

“J-Jesse…” he called, finally allowing his name to fall from his lips. He sat back up, rolling his hips slowly to have his member poke against his prostate once again. He whimpered quietly. His name being said was the most beautiful sound McCree had ever heard. The sound replayed over and over in his head as he started to breath heavy from his tightness clamping down on him.

“Y-You said my--” he started to get out.

“Make love to me. P-Please..This feels s-so good…”

Now it was McCree’s turn to become flustered, his heart pounding as he furiously nodded his head. “G-Got it…” His eyes were practically sparkling with delight as he sat up, completely bewildered by the beautiful archer. He was so bewildered that his member swelled in size, much to Hanzo’s delight as he squirmed. McCree hugged his body close, slowly laying his body down on the futon. His long black hair spread out along the pillows as he waited, his legs spread wide with his knees bent. His finger tweaked with his aroused nipple as he watched McCree who slapped his length against his entrance. His hole was reddened and eager to be filled, grinding his entrance against the hot flesh. He positioned the tip at his entrance, prodding it.

“You ready?” he asked, wanting to make sure Hanzo had fully recovered. He ran his fingers down his torso, nodding his head slowly. Once he felt his walls begin to stretch as McCree started to fill him, he loudly screamed as his back arched. His chest quivered from the deep intrusion. He placed his hands in the crook of his legs, pushing them closer to his torso as he began to thrust, starting at a slow gentle pace. His nails dug into the pillow beneath his head as he felt the bundle of nerves in his body being pressed against over and over. A deep groan escaped the cowboy as he picked up the pace, their skin starting to slap once again. The floorboards beneath them started to squeak as McCree moved roughly inside of him. But this time, it was different. Their sexual encounter was more erotic than before. Hanzo was letting his voice out, screaming McCree’s praises with ease as he penetrated his core over and over again. This urged the cowboy to go further, plunging himself deeper just to hear more of his voice. He wanted to make that voice become rusted and hoarse. From his noises alone, he was able to find more of what he desired. If he pressed himself more to the left, Hanzo would furrow his brow from the odd sensation. But if he pressed more to the right, his tongue would travel across his bottom lip as his back arched. It was his favorite spot.

“G-Good…” Hanzo whimpered, gasping as he pinched his core. He stuck his tongue out, waiting for him to respond. The other man laughed, leaning down. “You really gotta find a less seductive way to ask for kisses,” he teased, pressing his lips against his as he pounded inside him. Hanzo moaned through the kiss, coiling his fingers in his hair as he could feel McCree’s hips begin to thrust wildly. He had been holding on for so long that his body was practically cramping for a release. When their lips separated, a thin trail of saliva connected their lips as Hanzo moaned loudly from the vicious pounding. His once pale cheeks were now flushed red as he felt his breath being stripped away. 

“K-Keep going…” he whispered to him as he watched his face. McCree’s eyes were squeezed shut as he concentrated, his forehead littered with sweat. He breathed heavily, his abdomen trembling as his release began to build. Hanzo’s hands roamed his torso, his fingers tracing over the scars from the swordsmen. His handiwork was apart of his body now forever. That quick thought almost brought a smile to his face before a powerful moan shot through him. He began to hiss through his teeth, grunting as he felt his muscles clench. His eyes rolled back, the sensation deep inside of his entrance heating up his body till he felt he were on fire. Hanzo screamed at the top of his lungs repeatedly as he felt himself releasing his love over and over. His body spasmed and twitched as he released from McCree’s hard thrusting. He was unable to speak, loud moans erupting through every word. He screamed his praises at the top of his lungs, dogs beginning to bark outside as their sensitive ears picked up the sounds. “J-Jesse…” he managed to call through his screams as he reached out both of his hands. McCree was quick to grab ahold of his hands, just to hold onto something to keep himself steady as he lost all control of the lust that washed over his body.

The room became hot from their heavy breathing, the air seeming to become thinner due to the cold air seeping through the crack of the wood. They pressed their foreheads against one another as their bodies slapped against one another. “C-Cum…” he muttered through gritted teeth, groaning as his body trembled. “M-Me too...Together,” he whispered to him, playing in his hair to egg him on. His legs locked around McCree’s waist as they drowned in each other.

“H-Han!”

“J-Jesse!”

They both cried out in ecstasy, his love shooting along his chest as McCree’s love rushed inside of his body. The warm liquid sent shivers down his spine as he released raspy breaths. The cowboy collapsed on top of Hanzo, their chests heaving as they simply took in everything that transpired. He held his body close, gasping for air as the warm liquid continued to fill him. They peppered kisses on one another’s lips, slowly coming down from their release. They gazed into each other’s eyes, chuckling from embarrassment. McCree rested his face in the crook of his neck, his member still filled with life.

“More?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Hanzo facepalmed, a large smile on his face as he nodded with a laugh. McCree nodded along.

“More,” he confirmed, attacking the archer with a barrage of kisses.

They remained locked in one another’s embrace for hours, giving each other every ounce of passion they could. Hanzo’s screams rang throughout the night, the sun and the moon shining light upon their union. Though the words were never truly shared, the feeling was obvious:

Love.

t-t-t-t

Light from the dimming sun pierced Hanzo’s eyes, one slowly opening to look about. He was sore all over, barely able to move from the weight of his cramped legs. But before he even rolled over, he knew. The bed felt colder and his head was propped on both pillows.

...McCree was gone.

His heart slowly ripped apart. He should have known that it would just be meaningless sex. He used him, just like the others. He trusted in him...and he betrayed him. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he laid there, his cynical mind tearing him apart.

He was an idiot for ever trusting him.

The door creaked open, a piercing breeze wafting through the room. The being who entered tried their best to remain quiet, their footwear carefully being placed on the floor near the door. Was it an assassin sent to kill him?

...Good, he thought.

He didn’t want to live in a world like this with a heart this heavy. So he waited. Waited for a knife to slit his throat, a sword to pierce his chest, a gunshot to the head; something to end his misery. But it never came. Instead he heard the sounds of bags shuffling and chopping against a wooden cutting board, the home soon filling with the scent of a familiar dish. Hanzo carefully rolled over, his eyes widening at the sight. McCree sat in the center of the room, a cast iron skillet on the fire with strips of bacon sizzling inside. He wore a smile on his face as he watched them, his eyes glancing up for a moment. He flinched in shock once he saw Hanzo staring at him in surprise.

“Oh, mornin’ darlin’,” he greeted with a crooked smile. “I got us some breakfast. Do you, uh, do you drink coffee?” he asked. McCree continued to speak on breakfast and his trip to the market but Hanzo didn’t hear a word of it.

He was here, he was actually here.

Those lips, those eyes, that wild hair--it was all here.

He began to laugh, a true honest laugh, as tears flowed down his cheeks. McCree stared in confusion, quickly moving over to him as he tried to rectify the situation. “What’s wrong, sweet pea? Did I do something wrong? H-Honeybee?” he frantically asked. Hanzo cupped his cheeks, pressing their lips together. He peppered his lips with multiple kisses, pulling away slowly as he caressed his scruffy cheeks. McCree slowly raised his brow. “You sure know how to make a man confused.” Hanzo chuckled. That may be true but there was one thing he was certain of.

“I love you, Jesse McCree,” he declared proudly. His eyes widened, the most beautiful smile spreading across his face as he chuckled. His eyes became wet with tears, his teeth biting down on his lips as he stopped them. He chuckled again, shaking his head a bit. “You know, I wanted to say it to ya first…” They kissed once again.

“I love you,” Hanzo whispered.

“I hear ya, pumpkin,” he said to him.

“And I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, that was 23 pages. Sweet Jesus on a bicycle. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it and please review. It took me 6 months to finally have the courage and idea to finish this piece. Thanks a bunch for reading!


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